Secrets in Suburbia
by silverowl33
Summary: Sequel to Mole in the Murder. Jeffersonian team picks up a case and soon learns that Connor is still alive and that the human trafficking ring isn't shut down like they believed. Please read and review!
1. Chapter 1

**Hi guys! I'm here with the sequel no one asked for and will probably get updated paper encyclopedia (had nothing good for simile and I'm currently experiencing computer issues). Anyway. I have a few chapters done and this will probably be longer than the first story "Mole in the Murder". The story might seem off but it connects. I don't own Bones**

Chapter One

"Christ Almighty," Booth said. The team looked at the Angelatron. On the screen was an eleven year old girl who disappeared three years ago. Caroline Smith. She disappeared one cold November night from her home in Erie Pennsylvania. Her family had recently moved there and Caroline didn't seem happy with the move. Her parents were contemplating divorce, her younger brother was recovering from a car crash that killed their grandfather, her older brother was becoming a delinquent, and her youngest brother clung to her for emotional support. She was stressed out and angry. People thought she ran away and would come home but no one could find any trace of evidence of where she went. She didn't go to her old home and didn't have any close friends to shelter her. Everyone feared the worst.

Her disappearance was even more suspicious after police had to be called over to the family home for a domestic dispute two months after her disappearance. They found no evidence of domestic or child abuse, and Mr. and Mrs. Smith swore they were just arguing about their missing daughter. Two days later, Mrs. Smith and the youngest two sons went missing. Three months ago, Ryan Smith, Caroline's older brother, had died of an overdose. Now it was just Mr. Smith.

Booth had Angela pull up the records of Mr. Bill Smith. Bill Smith had been picked up a few times for public intoxication but nothing serious. He was a licensed gun owner and hunter, and had two registered rifles and a handgun. He still lived in the same house. Bill actively tried to find his missing children. He routinely called hospitals, shelters, and morgues for Johnny and Janie Does. He had a FaceBook page devoted to his missing children. Recently he was fired and was supposedly living at home.

"Tragedy could not leave this family alone, huh?" Angela said bitterly.

"I'll get the next plane out there," Booth said.

XXX

The house looked abandoned. The grass was overgrown, a window was boarded up. A section of the gutter was missing. The white paneling on the sides was covered in dirt. A beat up car was parked in the driveway. Booth walked up to the front door and tried to ring the doorbell. It didn't work so he knocked. No one answered. Booth was about to knock again when the door swung open an inch. A haggard face looked through the crack. A security chain prevented Booth from trying to open the door any farther.

"Who are you?" the man spat. He reeked of alcohol and cigarette smoke.

"Mr. William Smith?" Booth asked.

"You didn't answer my question," the man growled.

"I'm Special Agent Seeley Booth with the FBI. I'm here to talk to you about your daughter," he said.

"You found her," the man actually smiled.

"I'm sorry sir but Carrie is dead," Booth said gently. He expected sobbing and pleading. Not this. The man threw his head back and laughed.

"Look at that Lou!" he howled, "You fooled the government too! But you can't fool me."

"Mr. Smith," Booth tried to get a handle on the situation. The door shut and quickly reopened. Bill Smith undid the security chain and told him to come in. He led him into a dark office next to the hallway. He turned on the lights. Inside the room were the ramblings of a crazy man with a police officer's organizational skills. He had whiteboards filled with dates and times and corkboards with strings connecting pieces of paper and photographs. A cot was jammed next to a desk with a sleek Mac on top.

"Sir?" Booth said.

"This is my evidence room. You're wrong; if you look closely at my evidence you can see my wife orchestrated the whole thing. It's all her fault and I'm hot on her trail. She has my baby boys and I'm going to get them back. Then I'll get Carrie back," Mr. Smith rambled.

"Your daughter is dead Mr. Smith. My team has confirmed the body we found is Caroline Smith. Your daughter is dead," Booth said slowly.

"No she's not," he hissed, "Lou arranged everything. My princess isn't dead. She's alive and well. Living with some other family. Calling some other man Dad and some other bitch Mom."

Booth was confused. Who is Lou? Rebecca Smith was the name of his wife and there are no neighbors or surviving relatives named Lou. He tried again, "Sir, if you believe that your daughter is still alive then-"

"No, no, no, no, no!" he yelled, "The police will mess it all up. They don't understand and the ones that do are working for her."

"For who?" Booth asked.

"For Lou! My God, are you even listening?" Mr. Smith exploded. "She did it all! She arranged for her to be taken away and left when I got close. She took away my kids. Drove Ryan to drugs. It's all her fault." Suddenly lucid, he said, "I'm not crazy, I swear. She did it all. I have the evidence. It'll take a while but it makes sense in the end."

"Sir," Booth said.

"Please," he begged, "You don't know what I've seen. I watched her grow up. Her first word was Dada. She loved Spongebob and Fairly Odd Parents. When she was little she wanted to be a Disney Princess when she grew up. She broke her left arm and wouldn't stop crying until I promised her soda, ice cream, and pizza. She can't swallow pills for the life of her. I just want my little girl back. You got to help me."

"Okay sir. Tell me what you know," Booth said. He didn't really believe him. The man went back to crazy as soon as he started. Nothing he said made sense. His conclusions were far-fetched and unlikely. He came to the conclusion that his wife took the boys to New England and was now in California. He said his wife traded his daughter for something but he didn't know what. Booth decided that he would call the local police to bring him in for questioning and have Sweets analyze him over a video call. Mr. Smith was definitely not fit for questioning. Anything he said would get thrown out in court unless he proved otherwise.

XXX

Booth cracked his back and groaned. He wished Brennan was here. She knew how to uncrack his back just the right way. She had to stay behind because Hayley had gotten mono which she claimed to have gotten from sharing a water bottle with one of her teammates. Booth was sure there was a boyfriend but Matt was refusing to be his spy or tell him anything.

His phone rang. It was the local police. He had called them last night and they said they would see if they could get a warrant.

"Hello," he said.

"Agent Booth," Lieutenant Goldberg said.

"Lieutenant Goldberg, what a surprise. How's the warrant coming along?" Booth asked.

"It's coming. We managed to send a guy down to talk to Mr. Smith into coming in for an interview. He'll be here at ten o'clock sharp. I suggest that you ready your shrink or we'll have to pull one from a local hospital," Lieutenant Goldberg said gruffly.

"Sure thing," Booth said and hung up. He called Sweets and was delighted to hear he didn't have an appointment between ten and ten-thirty. He would be good to analyze over videochat. Booth made his way to the precinct. A rookie officer showed him to the interrogation room and prepped the computer so Sweets could talk to Mr. Smith. At 10:01, Lt. Goldberg led Mr. Smith in.

"I made him aware of his rights and he declined a lawyer," Lt. Goldberg announced. Booth introduced him to Sweets he did not look happy.

"I'm not crazy," Mr. Smith said.

"I am merely here to make sure you are telling the truth and are fit to testify in court," Sweets said.

"Go fuck yourself, shrink boy," Mr. Smith snorted and rolled his eyes.

"Crude language will not help you Bill," Sweets said calmly.

"I'm Mr. Smith to you, cocksucker," Mr. Smith said.

"I'd like to ask you to refrain from cursing at me or any other law enforcement agent here," Sweets said in the same calm voice.

"I hope somebody's fucking your girlfriend up the ass right now," Mr. Smith taunted, "She's probably going 'Oh, oh, baby. Oh my God, baby. Woo!'"

"Mr. Smith," Booth reprimanded. It was a bit of a struggle to keep himself calm.

"Tell this fag to leave me the hell alone. I'm grieving, not crazy. I don't want no analyzation from a quack doctor. I've heard toddlers spit out more intelligent shit," Mr. Smith scoffed.

"It's protocol," Lt. Goldberg said in a bored tone.

"Protocol led to my daughter not being found so shove it up your ass," Mr. Smith folded his arms.

"If you sincerely believe that your daughter and sons are still alive, then you will apologize, sit there politely, and tell us what you know," Booth said through gritted teeth. Mr. Smith turned to him and looked disgusted. "No. No I will not."

"Excuse me?" Booth said.

"No. You boys in blue always fuck things up. I'll find my kids by myself thank you very much. All of you can burn in hell," Mr. Smith stood up. "This interview is over. I'm going home."

Lt. Goldberg showed him out. Booth apologized to Sweets after the two were gone. Sweets shook his head. "Think nothing of it. If anything he is in denial and going to the anger stage. I'd have an officer check in on him. He might go on a rampage or fall into a depression when he realizes he will never see his daughter again. I need to see him more or have him visit another psychologist to see if he can testify. Right now, he is suspect number one."

"All right. I'll see what I can do. See ya," Booth turned off the monitor.


	2. Chapter 2

**I don't own Bones.**

Chapter Two

Booth was irritated. The squints couldn't find anything of use and Daisy and Oliver's bickering was driving Brennan up the wall. They ought to keep duct tape handy whenever those two show up for a rotation. Thankfully, he wasn't there to hear it. It was supposed to be Wendell and Oliver but Wendell was sick so Daisy was filling in for him. He was currently sleeping and not happy when his phone woke him up and it wasn't his wife calling.

"Hello?" he answered his phone. Lt. Goldberg gave him a summary of what had happened. Booth cursed and called his team. They'd be here in a few hours. Booth quickly got dressed and hopped into his car. He was tempted to use his sirens but decided against it. It was two in the morning. Might as well let others get some sleep.

"So what happened exactly?" Booth asked Lt. Goldberg.

"Simple enough. He got drunk and fell asleep with a lit cigarette in his hand. None of the remaining smoke detectors had batteries in it and his water was turned off last week so there was no fire prevention. The fire burned for a while before a neighbor woke up to use the john and saw it," Lt. Goldberg said.

"Where did the fire start?" Booth asked.

"Near a cot in this little bedroom. I think it was supposed to be his evidence room. We found some paper scraps but the room is mostly torched. So your team's coming up to look it over?" Lt. Goldberg said.

"Yep. They'll be here between five and six, I believe," Booth yawned.

"There's a gas station near here. You can get a cup of coffee there," Lt. Goldberg said.

"I'll be fine," Booth waved it off. "Can I see the inside of the house?"

"Sure. Just put on booties. One of the firemen will lead you through. Just don't mess with the arson investigators. They get pissy when you mess with their things," Lt. Goldberg snorted. Booth was given booties and a young fireman to lead him around.

The second floor of the house didn't look like it had been used in a long time. Booth expected there to be a fine layer of dust but you need skin cells for that and to get those you need a body. Brennan taught him that one. There was nothing incriminating upstairs. In the family room on the first floor was a cute family picture of the entire family before everything went to hell. The family was sitting in front of their Christmas tree in their pajamas. The youngest two boys were wearing Christmas hats: both had red Santa hats on. Caroline had a pink Santa hat and Ryan wore a Christmas tree hat. Mr. and Mrs. Smith were proudly beaming at the camera with their arms around their children. They seemed happy.

"They got some pictures of the kids in the hall if you want to see them," Lt. Goldberg said. He pointed to the boy in the Santa hat. "That one has got to be illegitimate."

"What do you mean?" Booth frowned. The other man gestured him to follow him. They stopped in the hall and he turned on his flashlight. He shined it on a picture of the two younger boys in front of an ice rink. He pointed to the older of the two and said, "Look. Red hair."

"Red hair is recessive," Booth pointed out. "Besides it's more auburn."

"Run a salon?" Lt. Goldberg joked.

"I don't. His hair looks like my wife's and she's auburn," Booth said.

"Still. No other redhead in the family," he said.

"There could be a relative," Booth said.

"Maybe but they don't have any pictures," he said.

"Well it's not like we can ask any of them now," Booth said.

"But think about it. Light brown, blonde, blonde, blonde, our ginger, brown," Lt. Goldberg argued.

"Get Maury to confirm it then I'll believe you," Booth joked.

"We found something," a rookie officer came up to the two. He had an evidence bag with a scrap of paper inside it.

"It survived the fire," he said. Inside there was smudged writing. He continued, "Probably got some water damage from the hoses when they put it out."

"Does that say Ca or Co?" Booth asked.

"Ca or Company?" Lt. Goldberg guessed.

"Maybe California or Colorado," the rookie hazarded a guess. Booth pondered it. "Makes sense."

"Well we don't have jurisdiction over there. It's probably nothing and even if it were, you can't even read the blasted thing," Lt. Goldberg said. Booth smiled. "I think I know someone just for the job."

XXX

Angela hmmed and hawed over this reconstruction. The washed away ink wasn't giving her much and the fire burned half the paper so it wasn't working well. She looked down at what she had.

 **Ma**

 **Coo**

 **Ja**

 **80? Ce**

 **617**

 **Ca**

 **Sm**

 **Hum**

 **1873**

 **7**

She groaned. There wasn't a lot of sense here. She took a deep breath. She was a professional. She could figure this out. Booth said it might be a location. MA and CA were state initials. Massachusetts and California. She made a T chart on a piece of paper. Angela pursed her lips. The information seemed even. Five lines for each thing. She went with the first one.

Massachusetts. She searched Massachusetts 617 on Google. She grinned when the results came up. It was Boston. Coo must be some sort of name and 80? Ce must be an address.

"Angela," Brennan said.

"Hey Bren. I'm trying to find out what this paper means," she didn't take her eyes off the screen. Angela's phone rang. She answered and winced at the news. She hung up and said, "I got to go. Michael threw up at school."

"It is flu season," Brennan said understandably.

"Hopefully he recovers quick. I can deal with all this stuff but I can't deal with vomit. I'll be back as soon as possible," Angela said. She paused on her way out. "Was there something you wanted to tell me?"

"Yes, the FBI doesn't see this piece of paper of much importance. They want us to announce the case as cold if we can't find anything when the week's over. There's no one to interview," Brennan frowned.

"Don't worry. I'll get my dad to watch Michael as soon as I settle him in," Angela promised and left.

XXX

Booth walked into the Jeffersonian. The squints said it was important that he and Sweets come to Angela's office immediately. Sweets chattered away about Caroline Smith's diary. They found it in an old evidence container. It contained no clues on what happened to her but it did give insight on the girl's personality and personal problems.

"You can obviously tell that she was experiencing a plethora of emotions at the time: anger, resentment, fear, worry. She never directly says what is bothering her though. It's the move but it's something about the move that she's afraid to talk about. I'm halfway through it," Sweets said. He mentioned that Carrie had suspected that her mother was having an affair which was a possible angle. If she did, he could have killed her. The two turned into the designated office and paused. A man was standing in the middle of the room. The squints stared at him. Annoyance and disbelief was written on their faces.

"Agent Booth. Good to see you again," the man held his hand out. Booth couldn't place where he had seen this man before. The man noticed his confusion and said, "Agent Donohue, Agent Booth." He laughed, "I don't blame you for not remembering me. I stick to the shadows. But I like you. You're a good man and a damn fine agent. You keep your promises and put the bad guys in jail while making sure the little guy stays safe."

"Thank you." Booth kept his face neutral. Now he remembered him. And, of course, the promise he made three years ago. That's what the flattery was for. No, it couldn't be.

"Now that we've made introductions," Donohue smiled brightly.

"We didn't," Booth was glad Oliver spoke for once.

"We don't need to. I'm Agent Donovan and they gave me a briefing before I came here," Agent Donohue said.

"And who are they exactly?" Cam wasn't about to let a stranger take control over her people.

"The Witness Protection Program," Donohue said.

"So that's why their records were spotty," Angela said. She could find next to nothing on the Smiths.

"You are correct," Donohue said. Angela interrupted him again. "So do you know what that paper was for?"

"What paper?" Donohue became serious for the first time this meeting.

"I thought they gave you a briefing," Hodgins said deadpan. Donohue ignored him. "What paper?"

"The burned piece of paper with information on it," Angela said.

"What information?" Donohue pressed.

"I don't know yet. I just left to get my sick son and I dropped him off at my father's," Angela explained.

"How much information did you get so far?" Donohue sounded desperate.

"What is this about Agent?" Brennan stared him down.

"The Smiths aren't really the Smiths," Donohue said.

"We kind of figured that one out when you said Witness Protection Program," Hodgins said.

"You don't understand the full complexities of this family," Donohue growled.

"Well make us understand," Daisy announced.

"I can't yet. You all have to be vetted," Donohue said, "I need that paper."

"How about you tell us more about this family, Agent," Booth crossed his arms.

"I don't have time for games. They can be in serious danger right now. Does anyone else know about this paper? Are you sure this is Carrie Smith?" Donohue looked around wildly.

"Yep. She matches the medical files and dental files. Her teeth were a little crooked and she had the break on her right ulna that's four years old," Daisy said. Donovan looked at her and paled.

"What?" Daisy asked.

"Shit!"

XXX

"Shit," he whispered to himself. He was staring at the sunrise from the top of the hill. Dad decided to have another boys' trip and took them on a camping trip. They hiked and hiked until they found a suitable camping spot. Dad was giving his usual lecture on how to put out a fire safely to Dylan and Parker. Parker, the idiotic tot he was, tried to play with fire the last time they went camping. No one was particularly happy about that, specifically him and Dylan because they were supposed to be watching out for each other and Parker.

He briefly wondered what it was like to be a girl on a camping trip. At least boys could pee standing up, girls on the other hand, could not. Girls were the mystery that plagued his mind. He thought about them constantly, and not always in the way a middle schoolers usually do. Like if they get their period in the ocean, could a shark smell it and try to eat them? What was toxic shock-something that he heard Tara and Danielle talk about? Why do some women hate feminists? What does it feel like when you have a baby kick you? What's more painful: getting kicked in the nuts or childbirth? How come a girl can act like a boy and be considered cool but when a guy acts like a girl, he's called a wuss? Is it easier to fight in a dress, skirt, or pants?

"Jason! Are you going to lend me a hand?" Dad shouted.

"Sorry! Coming!" he yelled back. He took one last look at the sunrise. It was pretty.


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry I haven't posted much. My computer is being such a pain right now. I don't own Bones. enjoy the longest chapter I have written so far for this story (not hard when it's the third chapter huh?)**

Chapter Three

"No, no, no, no, no!" the agent repeatedly wailed as he paced around the office.

"Was it something I said?" Daisy asked.

"No shit it was something you said!" Donohue snapped. Daisy flinched. Brennan pursed her lips and so did Cam. No one abused their colleagues.

"Do not talk to my workers like that. She was doing her job," Cam ordered.

"Maybe you can explain why what she said upsets you?" Brennan said.

"Carrie had her left arm broken when she was seven. She told me that it was the only bone that she had ever broken," Donohue said, "As for her teeth, I think they were straight. She didn't need braces."

"How would you know?" Hodgins said.

"Because we pay for protected witnesses' things. Braces would have been on the list," Donohue rolled his eyes. "Mrs. Smith was the vainest woman you'll ever meet. And a bit of a narcissist. She would need her little angels' teeth straight."

"How was her arm broken?" Daisy asked hesitantly.

"I think it got broken when the Program came over to retrieve them. The family was being attacked by the people who want to kill them," Donohue shrugged.

"And that is?" Booth asked.

"The Stanton Royals. They were a nasty drug cartel. Mr. Smith got involved and possibly Mrs. Smith. Mr. Smith gambled and abused drugs and owed them a substantial amount of money. He offered to wear a wire and testify to bring it down. Someone told the heads and a death warrant was sent over the entire family," Donohue explained.

"Who are the heads?" Booth asked.

"One's dying in a jail infirmary right now and the other two are already dead. They got cocky and tried to move onto more powerful gangs turfs. Mr. Smith testified a year after his daughter went missing so I doubt they had her. They went down a few months before her disappearance. We kept them in the Program because the gang's still operating, just no one knows who's the head yet. They keep killing each other off," Donohue squared his shoulders.

"What was the family's real name?" Angela asked.

"The Wilcoxes. Robert Wilcox was the Bill Smith, Rebecca was the mother, Louise," Booth cut him off.

"Louise?" he repeated.

"Yeah. So?" Donohue asked.

"Bill Smith kept babbling about a Lou. Said Lou did everything. Lou could be his nickname for his wife, pre-Program of course," Booth said. Donohue sighed and thought about it. He looked at Booth, "She always did strike me as a bit of an odd duck. It's possible since we never found any bodies."

"I need to have you all vetted," Donohue announced, "Then we can work on this paper some more and find out what Bill knew."

XXX

"I need to talk to you," Booth said when he found the other agent alone.

"And I to you," Donohue chuckled.

"This isn't funny," Booth warned him. Guilt at not telling his wife and squints was eating him alive.

"You want to talk about _him_ , don't you?" Donohue poured coffee into two mugs and handed Booth one.

"He's the other boy in the picture, isn't he?" Booth asked and shoved the Christmas picture into Donohue's hands.

"There are three boys in this photo," Donohue said. He took a slug of his drink.

"Gee I wonder which redheaded boy can be our redheaded boy," Booth said sarcastically.

"You're a tad too close to the case, Agent Booth. I have no problems calling in that Agent Aubrey to take your place," Donohue took a sip of coffee, "The kid's already coming over. He'd love to lead a case."

Booth frowned. He was slowly getting used to the kid agent. He didn't want him taking his spot. He said, "You will keep me on this case."

"Really?" Donohue said.

"Yes, you will. The team won't work with you if you remove me," Booth said.

"It's good to have the upper hand isn't it?" Donohue smiled at him, "Besides, it's up to the head honchos to make the decision about telling everyone. You'll lose your job if you breathe a word about his identity."

"We don't even know where he is. Don't you think the team will be a little suspicious as to why they don't get a file with his name slapped on it," Booth said, anger started to seep into his voice.

"They can understand. If not, they're dismissed for this case," Donohue waved his hand.

"You!"

The two men snapped their heads towards the voice. The voice belonged to one very angry Dr. Brennan.

XXX

Brennan and Angela were in Angela's office, looking at family photos. They had the Christmas photo on the screen. Brennan asked her to zoom in on the younger children's faces.

"Look at this Angela," she pointed to the auburn haired boy and dark haired boy.

"Well he has red hair. But that's recessive," Angela said, "And sometimes blonde hair turns darker when you age."

"Yes but look at their faces," Brennan said.

"They're cute little kids," Angela offered.

"Their facial structures," Brennan clarified, "How do they differentiate from the rest of the family?"

"Well the auburn haired one-Jake was it-has a more square face and the dark haired one, Noah, has a more heart shaped face. The mother's an oval and so is the daughter. The dad is rectangular and the son is diamond," Angela said. "Bren they may have gotten their facial shapes from another family member."

"One could think that but look," Brennan gestured to the stack of manila folders. She pointed to the auburn haired one, "This one doesn't have a file."

"Maybe they forgot to send it or it got lost," Angela offered.

"Do you remember Punnett Squares?" Brennan asked.

"The gene boxes from bio? Yeah. They were the easiest things ever to exist in science," Angela said.

"So you understand recessive and dominant genes work, correct?" Brennan said.

"Yeah. Where are you headed with this?" Angela asked. Her smile turned into a frown.

"The chances of this boy having a square face are slim along with his red hair," Brennan said.

"So?" Angela asked, "That's not enough to suggest anything. It could all be recessive."

"But look at his eyes. They're brown," Brennan looked proud.

"Yes. They are. They're a dominant trait. Wouldn't they be the ones to take over?" Angela asked.

"Look at the parents' eyes. Robert has green eyes and Louise has blue," Brennan waited for her realization. It didn't come. She continued, "These two are recessive genes. Their children should have green or blue eyes. Robert Jr., also known as Ryan, and Cassidy, also known as Caroline, have blue eyes."

"Okay," Angela said.

"There is not a snowman's chance in Hell of these two parents having a brown eyed child," Brennan said.

"Oh," Angela said. She had a good guess about where this is going. "So you think she had an affair."

"With Noah, or Samuel Wilcox originally, it's more than likely. But with Jake, I don't think that this is their child," Brennan said.

"That's a big conjecture," Angela said.

"It's not. It's very unlikely that this is their child," Brennan said, "He lacks the facial features, hair color, and, most importantly, eye color."

"Which would explain why his file isn't with the rest," Angela filled in the gaps. She frowned, "Then who is this kid?"

"I don't know," Brennan said.

"I could run his face through any database I can get my hands on," Angela offered. Brennan's eyes widened.

"What?" Angela asked. Brennan ignored her and quickly typed something into her computer. She brought up a young boy's school picture. He looked familiar.

"Can you please run a facial comparison on these two boys?" Brennan said.

"Bren, sweetie, who is this kid?" she asked.

"Please Angela," Brennan asked. Angela complied. A quick comparison proved that these were the same boy. Brennan looked angry.

"Bren, who is he?" Angela asked again. Brennan quickly left the room and Angela looked at what she had typed onto the computer. Connor O'Malley. She had picked his picture from his obituary. Isn't he dead? Her stomach sunk like a rock.

XXX

"You!" Brennan shouted. Booth looked like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie bin while Donohue looked amused. As if she was a game he was playing with. It made her angrier. No one played her like a banjo.

"Yes?" Donohue smiled like a lizard.

"Explain to me why someone was brought back from the dead," she demanded. Donohue looked at Booth, then back at her. Booth looked nervous. Did he know? No, he would have told her.

"Who's back from the dead?" he asked with the same damn smile.

"Connor O'Malley," she said angrily. Donohue closed his eyes. The boy's name was like that evil wizard from the popular children's series. Not to be spoken aloud.

"Who told you?" Donohue said darkly. His friendly façade was replaced by a colder one.

"I found it out myself. He didn't look like a child of Louise and Robert Wilcox. His brown eyes were the straw that broke the mule's back," Brennan said. "Why keep this a secret?"

"Look, we're not entirely sure if we got everyone in the human trafficking ring. We want to keep his identity a secret for as long as possible before we told you," Donohue said.

"And you knew?" Brennan had to ask.

"He's known since the beginning," Donohue said. Brennan glared at her husband and shook her head. She needed some time to process this and left the break room.

XXX

Booth sighed. He didn't even have the chance to properly apologize to Bones. Donohue forced him onto two trips to the truant family's past residences. Aubrey was manning the Jeffersonian base. No one there was pleased to find out that Connor wasn't dead. They all went to his funeral and mourned together. Booth broke their trust by not telling them that he was alive. He felt bad but he was protecting the kid. Why couldn't they see that?

The trips provided some information. The Boston and Crescent City addresses were long abandoned by the family. The Crescent City address, the more recent of the two, was abandoned two years ago. They got two updated descriptions of the families. In Boston, Louise Wilcox gave birth to a baby boy, Elliott, under the last name, Murphy, and in Crescent City, she had gained a little weight. They still had the two boys with them. They were happy and healthy the last time the neighbors saw them. That had to be a good sign.

Thankfully, they had a consistent description of Louise Wilcox's new husband. He was tall and muscular. Only a few years older than her and he worked in some sort of security company in both addresses. He had dark hair and brown eyes. A Crescent City neighbor had a picture of his family with the missing family and was more than willing to hand it over. The husband was in it, so Angela was running his face in every database to find a match.

"So your wife's pretty angry huh," laughed Donohue.

"Yeah, she is," Booth grounded out. He thought for a moment and said, "I thought you were supposed to take care of Connor."

"I was. Then it turned out to be less money to stick him with another family so there you have," Donohue said too cheerily.

"Why are you happy? A kid could be dead," Booth said.

"Probably not. That kid's pretty indestructible and it didn't seem like Louise and her new beau wanted him and Samuel. They're probably somewhere where Robert Sr. couldn't find them," Donohue shrugged.

"Let's just head home," Booth said. He couldn't stand the upbeat agent. He wanted to be back with his Bones and try to mend whatever was broken.

XXX

"Kick his ass Dylan!" he screamed and pounded the glass. He was dragged to one of his little brother's hockey games-again-and his younger brother was now fighting with a much bigger eleven years old player. That kid had been roughing up all the kids and tried to fight one of Dylan's teammates. Dylan, the diplomat, stepped in between them and got hit by the bigger kid. Thankfully, his brother shared his short fuse and exploded. Two refs were trying to wrench the players from their fight.

"Kick ass!" imitated Parker. Jason had to laugh. His little brother was only four. He stopped when he saw the dirty look Mom gave him. She looked irritated but all Dylan and he had to do to get out of trouble was to flash a big smile or pout. Either one worked. Mom wasn't one for parenting.

When the game was over-Dylan's team lost by six points-Jason wasted no time and jumped on his younger brother. He wiped a pretend tear from his eye and sniffed loudly, "My little brother, all grown up."

"Shut up," Dylan punched his arm. He had an ice bag over his eye. That other kid roughed him up.

"Always next time lil bro. Just plot and wait," Jason laughed. Dylan snorted and tried to heave his hockey bag into the minivan's trunk. Jason had to help him.

"Can we get Chik-fil-A?" Dylan pleaded.

"Sure," Mom said absentmindedly and reversed out of the parking spot. She was lost in her own little world again so it meant free time until Dad got home.


	4. Chapter 4

**I don't own Bones. Also I'm sure this isn't how rap battles work but I started writing and this is what happened. Also I don't blame you if you're confused, the next chapter should clear things up and I'll start to take care of loose ends. Things are speeding up now.**

Chapter Four

 _"_ _I'll come after you in the dark_

 _You little fucking narc_

 _Bitch you so gay_

 _And fucking cray_

 _I'll be getting all the ladies and a Mercedes_

 _While you be getting your ass fucked up by the crazies_ ," spat TJ. Jason raised his eyebrows and shoved his buddy Derek behind him. He's taking this one.

 _"_ _I'm gay?_

 _How cliché_

 _Really think that's an insult in the twenty first centur-ay?_

 _So what if I'm a part of the LGBTQ_

 _I'm still going to get more ass than you_

 _Come after me the dark?_

 _Think you're the king of this park?_

 _You think you so hot?_

 _You're not_

 _Your stupid ass going to wind up in jail_

 _Couldn't even get a girl if you ordered her from the mail_

 _Think that you can destroy me?_

 _Bitch please_

 _I've been shot_

 _My heart fuckin' stopped_

 _If Death couldn't take me once_

 _How the hell do you think you're going to take me,_ _ **dunce**_ _?"_ He stepped forward as menacingly as he could. JT stepped up.

 _"_ _There you go again_

 _Think you're the man with a plan_

 _Please, you're a little white boy_

 _Go play with your rich boy toys._

 _Don't know shit_

 _Keep actin' like this and you gonna get bit._

 _Yeah, I am going to wind up in jail_

 _Because I don't have skin quite as pale_

 _As a ghost_

 _At most you can show a little respect_

 _For a real brotha with a soul_

 _You ugly little troll_

 _You think that you can be cold_

 _Bitch winter ain't coming_

 _It's already here, queer."_

Connor took another step forward.

 _"_ _A real brotha with soul?_

 _You're kidding me right?_

 _Oh so that's why you're coming for me in the middle of the night_

 _You're more cowardly than the Lion_

 _Trying to scare me with the fear of dying._

 _Well, I've seen Death, and I've seen you_

 _Well guess what, I find 'im prettier than you_

 _Thought I saw the horrors of hell_

 _But then I have to be in this room with you and your stupidity too_

 _Dante's Nine Circles ain't got nuthin' on you two_

 _Oh shit, does the name not ring a bell?_

 _Well, let's not dwell_

 _Psyche! Man, you're so illiterate_

 _How the fuck am I supposed to take you serious?_

 _Bragging that you read at a third grader's level_

 _Christ, you're weirder than Neville_

 _I'mma make you rue the day_

 _You thought you could slay_

 _Me like a dragon_

 _Time to pack your bags and"_

"What in blazes is going on here?" the huffy math teacher, Mr. Brunner, hollered. He stormed through the huddle of kids surrounded them. The boys just stared at him.

"Well gentleman?" Mr. Brunner asked, "I heard some degenerates singing. What was that about?"

"We're holding a competition for our A Capella group. We need a soprano and the loser gets castrated," Jason deadpanned.

"That's enough of you Doyle," Mr. Brunner hissed. "Do parents need to be called?"

"Well according to JT, my mom would love the company," Jason raised his eyebrows up and down and curled his lips into his signature smirk.

"Is there no filter on you?" Mr. Brunner was easily exasperated and disgusted by his implication.

"Filters are for coffee pots and government puppets," Jason grinned.

"Principal's office. Now," Mr. Brunner ordered.

"On what grounds?" Jason loved to bait the prickly son of a bitch.

"On the grounds that you are incorrigible," Mr. Brunner growled, "Go."

Jason held up his head high and strutted down the hall. He's off to see the Wicked Witch of the West. Too bad water only melted her makeup and not her.

XXX

"Found him. Theodore Hoffman. No rap sheet or anything. He was a partner at a law firm, and then he just left one day. No one has seen him since," Angela said.

"So he's good with disappearing?" Booth said. Just what they needed: a goddamn ghost. Brennan was pretending like she was fine as she rationalized his decision. Booth didn't like that. She had drawn within herself. Thankfully he wasn't sleeping on the couch so it might not be so bad.

"Looks like it," Angela said. She paused then asked, "Have you talked to Brennan yet?"

"No. She doesn't want to," Booth said.

"You should," Angela said.

"Gee thanks Ange," Booth said, "Haven't thought of that."

"Just talk to her Booth," Angela shook her head. Booth walked out of the office. At least Hayley and Matt weren't around for this. Their aunt had them per their joint custody agreement and it was now her week with them. Parker was home early for Christmas break. He was ecstatic about coming here.

He and Connor were around the same age: thirteen. The two liked comics, video games, sports, and jokes. Booth wondered if they ever met, would they get along. Both seemed like jokesters but Connor seemed to have a record of pushing his limits. Probably because no one ever told him off properly. Neighbors told him that Theodore usually punished Connor and Samuel but not often. The two ran wild.

"Booth! We got a phone call for you!" Cam yelled. She looked worried.

"Hello?" Booth asked.

"Hello? It's Louise Wilcox. I need your help," the woman on the phone said

XXX

 _Last Night_

"Is Dad still mad at me?" Jason asked.

"You know how he is. He still loves you Connor," Mom said.

"Mom, you're not supposed to call me that. What if you slip up in public?" he reprimanded her. Dad didn't slip up. Why did she do it so much?

"I won't sweetheart. I won't," Mom pulled into the driveway. There was a strange black SUV parked in front of their house.

"Mom?" he asked.

"Oh that's just Damien. Remember him? You've met him a few times. He's got the cool war stories," Mom said. Jason nodded. He remembered him now.

"Be polite and good. I have to pick up Dylan from Greg's house and run some errands," Mom said. Jason got out of the car and walked inside. Damien and Dad were in the kitchen, laughing and drinking. Damien waved to him and tapped something on his phone.

"C'mere Jase!" shouted Dad as he laughed too hard.

"Hi Dad. Hi Uncle Damien," Jason said. They invited him to join their little card game. They were gambling with M&Ms and Skittles. They played for a while. Damien's phone was now charging on the counter.

"Crap. We need more beers," laughed Damien.

"I got more in the basement," laughed Dad. He stood up and clumsily went downstairs.

"I gotta take a leak. No peeking at our cards now boy," Damien chuckled and roughly ruffled Jason's hair. Jason gave him a perfunctory smile and picked at his nails. Damien hadn't made it up the hall yet when his phone rang.

"Jase! Who is it?" Damien hollered. Jason got up and went to the counter. The Caller ID only said Boss.

"Your boss!" Jason yelled back.

"Pick it up would ya?" Damien asked. Jason heard him walk back.

"Hello? Damien's phone, his secretary speaking," Jason quipped.

" _Hello Connor._ " The Russian/German man said. Jason dropped the phone as a needle plunged into his neck. His vision grew dark and he started to sway.

" _Goodnight son_ ," the Russian/German man said.

XXX

"Louise Wilcox?" Booth asked suspiciously.

"I need your help. Please. My husband, Theodore… he stole my babies," "Louise" started to cry.

"How do I know that this is Louise Wilcox?" Booth asked.

"For God's sake. I had two sons with Rob. Junior and Samuel. We had a daughter who went missing, Caroline. I was born on April, 29th 1974. My parents were David and Jennifer Taylor. I have a brother named Patrick. My first pet was a rabbit named Hopper. What more do you want?" the woman sounded more and more desperate as she went on.

"Where are you?" he asked.

"I'm in Denver, Colorado. The suburbs. 1264 West Maple Street," she said, "Please hurry. He has my babies," she cried and hung up. Booth quickly called the Director. The local FBI branch would be there soon to secure the address before he went in. Hopefully this was the real Louise Wilcox.


	5. Chapter 5

**I don't own Bones**

Chapter Five

"Understand now?" purred Tobias. Connor couldn't say anything. He stared at the screen. Cassidy was still alive. She was playing with Sam and Elliott in the kitchen. They were making cookies. _Better save some for me_ he thought bitterly.

"I can make you disappear. I can make you my slave. You are nothing but clay for me to mold," Tobias began to laugh.

"Your beloved sister here was sold to me by the ones you trust the most. I made her my daughter. No one knows the truth except my wife. You see. You will behave for me. If you don't, then one of your precious brothers will be punished. It might be a bullet or a pedophile. Either way works for me. But if you behave, then they get to live," Tobias clasped his hand on Connor's shoulder.

"I'm dead aren't I?" he asked.

"Of course you are. But you get to decide whether or not your brothers will suffer with you," Tobias said.

"What do you want me to do?" Connor asked.

"Well, when I say jump, you ask how high. And don't mention a word of this conversation to your brothers. If you do, then they get to be some sicko's toy then a painful death. Got it?" hissed Tobias.

"Yes sir," Connor nodded numbly.

XXX

"Louise Wilcox?" Booth asked the woman in the holding cell.

"Agent Booth?" she responded and looked at him hopefully.

"What can you tell me about your husband?" Booth asked. Louise told him the horrific stories of verbal and physical abuse. The recent injuries on her oldest two sons backed up her stories. Over the past two years, both boys have been to the ER a total of five times for roughhousing that led to some suspicious injuries. Connor seemed to have a savior complex and always stepped in front of his mother and brothers. Three of those five ER trips admitted him into the hospital. Samuel's only one was pretty bad. Samuel had fallen down the stairs while trying to chase after Connor. Connor sidestepped him and he went flying. Louise said Theodore had thrown him down the basement stairs after a horrible game.

"Ted gets over competitive all the time. He hates wussies and wimps. He doesn't want the boys to be one. That's why they each do sports. Connor loathes it. Ted makes him play basketball. He likes it but he's not as serious about it as Ted is. He'd rather play around with his camera and computer. He wants to be a director. Sammy plays ice hockey but he really does love the game. Ted's throwing Elliot into all kinds of sports to see what he's good at. Ice hockey, basketball, tee ball, and soccer. I think soccer and ice hockey will be the winners with him," Louise rattled off. She fidgeted with her hands but maintained eye contact.

"I can show you their rooms upstairs. The agents that showed up only took pictures and fingerprint dustings," Louise offered. Booth nodded. Elliot's room had toys cluttered in a corner and the bed was partially unmade as if he only pulled back the covers. A stuffed T-rex was lying on top of the pillow. Booth could not find any evidence of a break in or a struggle. Sam's room had some sports trophies and some science fair ribbons. A partly done model airplane rested on the desk. The kid had a glass case with three different butterflies in it. Hodgins would have liked it. Again, he couldn't find any evidence of a break in or a struggle. Sam's bed was untouched. Then they went to Connor's room. On the far wall, there was a picture of a space taped to the bottom of the wall with some Star Wars Lego figures and ships.. Other pictures were stacked haphazardly on the desk.

"He was making his own movies. He'd do parodies, remakes, and spoofs. Sometimes he'd let Sammy or Elliot help him but not often. He'd claim that they'd mess it up," Louise shook her head.

"Did he have a camera or a laptop or anything to make them with?" Booth asked.

"Yes. His camcorder and laptop. The local FBI department took them for evidence. I think Connor was making his own Star Wars sequel or prequel or something," Louise pointed to the small mess on the floor. She continued, "He'd type up scripts on his computer. They took his binder of scripts too. He had a whole bunch of them. I think his longest little movie was around forty, fifty minutes? I'm not sure. He never showed them until he thought they were perfect."

"Did Connor have any social media accounts? Did he talk to people on them?" Booth asked.

"He has an Instagram, a Twitter, and I think-no he does-have a Snapchat. I think his followers are just his friends. Ted and I gave him a whole spiel about online privacy and not doing anything inappropriate on his accounts. He understood the consequences. The FBI took Connor's phone. It was left here. It has the apps on it," Louise pressed her fists against her eyes.

"Did Samuel or Elliot have any online accounts? Like Club Penguin, Neopets, Webkinz?" Booth felt a little dumb for asking.

"Yes. Sammy and Elliot both have Club Penguin accounts but you really can't chat with other members. The boys shared my old iPad. The FBI has that too," Louise traced her fingers over the top of the bookcase.

"I'll need to see them. But for now, I have more questions," Booth said.

"What?" Louise inhaled sharply, "I've told you all I know. If I knew anything else about where they had gone, I would have told you."

"I know but I need to ask more questions. The more I know, the better the chances are at finding your sons," Booth told.

"What do you need to know?" Louise still had that defensive look in her eye.

XXX

Booth sat in a room with Theodore Hoffman's boss, Daniel Wilkes, and the company's lawyer, Chad Cox.

"It's such a shame," Daniel repeated for the umpteenth time, "John-err I mean-Theodore was such a nice guy. Real stand up guy. He never complained, called out sick, worked diligently. I never knew that he was capable of such a thing."

"How did Theodore Hoffman come to work for you?" Booth asked.

"He applied through an ad he saw online. He handled logistics and such," Daniel said, "I never knew."

"I'm sure you didn't. Can you tell me if Theodore had been acting suspiciously these past few weeks?" Booth asked.

"No, no. Not that I can remember at least," Daniel shook his head.

"I hope you know Agent Booth that we will cooperate as much as we can throughout this investigation," Chad Cox butted in. Ignoring him, Booth continued, "Did you know if Theodore had any marital problems? Or problems with his children?"

"With his kids? He loved them to death. He was always bragging about something they did," Daniel looked surprised, "I don't think he would ever do something to hurt them."

"What about his wife?" Booth pressed.

"He didn't talk about her much. When he did it was usually positive. He loved her though. I know that," Daniel stretched his fingers and blew on them.

"Were there any workplace problems?" Booth asked.

"No. He was mostly an introvert. Kept to himself. You had to reel him into the conversation. Get him on a topic he loved, like his kids, and he'd go on and on about it. He worked well. People here didn't find any problems with him. He was extremely polite and good-natured. You should have seen the contribution he gave to Julia's last day here. She's on maternity leave. Her boyfriend got her pregnant then left. She was going to be a single mom," Daniel said.

"Real sad stuff. Listen sir, we don't know anything about Theodore. He was quiet, polite, and loving. That's all we know," Chad said.

"You wouldn't mind if I had a chat with Julia. Would you please give me her information?" Booth said.

"Of course, of course," Daniel got up and typed something into his computer. He jotted something down and handed it to Booth. It had Julia's full name, Julia Elmer, her address, her phone number, and her email address. Booth thanked him and left.

XXX

"Where's Booth?" Aubrey asked. His usual easy going nature was replaced by seriousness.

"He's still in Colorado. Why?" Angela asked.

"I tried to give Mr. O'Malley a ring to see if he's heard anything from his son, but he's missing. He was evicted from his apartment and living in his car and in shelters. I tried to track him down. I went to the shelters and bars he frequented and no one has seen him in nearly two months," Aubrey said, "I've already alerted the FBI and Witness Protection Program. The FBI's having the local PD to put an APB on him."

"Maybe he just packed up his things and left the city without telling anyone," Hodgins suggested.

"I suggested that but I interviewed an old friend of his, his bartender, Ted Bernstein. Apparently, John O'Malley was acting extremely strange before he disappeared. He kept talking about his money troubles and his son," Aubrey said.

"What sort of things about his son? Anything to tip off the people Connor pissed off? That must be how they found him," Hodgins frowned.

"I don't know. It's possible. John O'Malley kept talking about letters he got from his son. Ted said that he used to talk about his wife calling him after she died so he thought Connor's death was really hitting him hard after all these years. John was using, heroin and other opioids, and was in serious debt with some loan sharks. John talked about using his son to get ahead and get a comfortable life. Ted thinks that he overdosed, the loan sharks got him, he offed himself, or he left town. Possibly Alabama since John has family there. I alerted the local police to look for him," Aubrey said. Cam walked into the room.

"The arson investigators got back to me. They confirmed that the fire was started by somebody. It started at the foot of his bed and whoever did it used accelerant on the end of the bed and on his evidence walls," Cam said.

"So that's two, possibly three or more murders," Angela said grimly. The not Cassidy Wilcox was run over by a car, Robert Wilcox was burned to death, and John O'Malley was probably dead. Who knew what was happening or happened to the three boys.

"Have you guys identified the Jane Doe?" Aubrey asked.

"No. I'm running her information through every database I can get my hands onto. Only Caroline Smith or nothing at all comes up," Angela frowned. Some poor parents would never see their daughter again or know what happened to her. That was a true tragedy.

"Keep looking. If we can find out who she was, then we can find out what happened to her and her brothers," Cam said.


	6. Chapter 6

**I don't own Bones. Please read and review!**

Chapter Six

Victor was bored. They got new names again and his sucked. Victor. He didn't like it. It sounded too old and you couldn't get a good nickname. If Con-ahem-Holden knew it, he'd call him Vicky or Tori and make him sound like a girl. Somewhat luckily, Holden had a bad response to the sleeping stuff they gave them so they wouldn't make noise while they were transported, and had to be in another part of this huge mansion to recover. When he was better, he'd be moved over to their side of the mansion.

Victor thought about his old name, Samuel. He preferred it over Victor but after his parents, Louise and Rob, terrorized him to make sure he wouldn't respond, he wasn't a big fan of it. Elliot, once Parker now Daniel, was napping on the couch. This place had a heated indoor pool and they spent all morning swimming in it. They were somewhere down south. Victor knew that because it was November and it was sixty degrees out! He wished they could go to the beach but they were waiting here until it was safe. The bad guys from Philly found out about them and already killed Rob. They were going to kill them too. He saw Dad for a few minutes. He was really pale and worried. He gave him and Danny so many hugs and kept promising that everything would be alright. He was really worried over Holden though. Victor couldn't blame him. If his son nearly died because he was allergic to the sleeping medication he was given for his safety, he'd be worried half to death too.

Good fake identities must be really expensive. He overheard Uncle Tobias talking to Dad about how he would need one hundred thousand dollars for each of them. Dad was heading to Las Vegas to make that sort of money. Uncle Tobias said he almost had enough to get one of them. Dad would probably pick Danny first. No one was really around to take care of kids. There were a few guards but no caretakers. They must be busy with Holden.

"Can we make cookies?" El-Danny tugged on his sleeve.

"Sure," Victor got up and stretched his legs. He was eager for something to take his mind off of things.

XXX

"I got something!" Angela was overjoyed.

"What?" Brennan asked.

"Look. Danielle Koller broke her right arm when she was seven. The x-rays are a perfect match. And look at this, right before Cassidy went missing, she was pulled out of school for the rest of the year and homeschooled. Since they didn't report it immediately to the school, the school briefly filed for a missing person report. And when it was time for the next school year, she went to a boarding school far away from her home. I managed to get pictures to compare her before and after she was pulled out," Angela pulled up two pictures. Both girls looked extremely similar, but with their trained eyes, they could see the slight differences. The before picture better matched the facial reconstruction and the girl in the after picture was Cassidy Wilcox.

"Good job. Only, what is the connection between the Kollers and the Wilcoxes?" Brennan asked.

"I'll look deeper into this," Angela said. Brennan nodded and left to alert the others.

XXX

Booth nodded and said good bye. Recent news was just making the path more confusing. He hoped that Danielle Koller would serve as a key to unlocking some mysteries. Koller. The name did sound familiar. Right now, he was outside the door of Julia Elmer to talk to her about Theodore. He had talked to some other coworkers and they said there was a rumor of Theodore having an affair with Julia. Julia was flighty and easily intimidated. It was possible that she was hiding the boys on Theodore's orders.

"Ms. Elmer?" he asked when the blonde woman opened the door. Her lipstick was smudged and her clothes were rumpled.

"Who are you?" she narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

"Special Agent Seeley Booth. I'm with the FBI. I want to talk to you about Theodore. Or John Doyle as you probably know him as," Booth said.

"John? What'd John do? He's a nice guy and all. I really don't see him doing anything illegal," Julia shifted nervously.

"I just want to talk to you about him," Booth said gently. She relaxed for a moment, and then she tensed again. She let him in and led him to the kitchen. A whimpering newborn squirmed in a bassinet.

"An-dy," Julia whined and picked him up. She started to bounce him. She looked at Booth for sympathy and said, "Colic."

"My friends' son had that. Music helped," Booth suggested. Julia shrugged. She would look at everything else but him.

"Can you tell me what John was like?" Booth asked.

"A real nice guy. He didn't ask much of me or anything like that," Julia shrugged her shoulders. Then she stopped bouncing her son and stared Booth down. She asked, "Is this about those stupid rumors?"

"What rumors?" Booth played dumb.

"About us sleeping together. Trust me it never happened," Julia pouted. "I mean, it almost did but he turned me down. Said even though his wife's cheating on him, he still wanted to keep his vows. Total bull y'know? I was mad at my boyfriend for sleeping around again. I wanted to get back at him y'know. John turned me down. He never mentioned it again."

"Who's the father?" Booth asked. He'd have to talk to Louise to see if she was having an affair.

"Not John. His dad's my now ex-boyfriend and I'll be damned if he turns out like him," Julia frowned.

"What's your boyfriend's name?" Booth asked.

"What's he got to do with it? He doesn't know that I tried to sleep with Johnny. He skipped town with some skanky waitress," Julia shrugged and tried to calm her infant son again. She was a terrible liar.

"Can I have his name? I need to investigate all possible angles," Booth said a little more forcefully.

"J-James Owens," Julia stammered. Booth was about to ask her another question when the baby decided to wail. He couldn't hear himself think. He had gotten what he needed anyway. She was lying and he could smell a bit of aftershave when he shook her hand to say goodbye. He was pretty damn sure that Theodore Hoffman was there recently or still there. He'd get a stakeout set up as soon as possible. He called Louise and told her to meet him back at the local FBI headquarters. He had some news.

XXX

"Here's your money," growled the man.

"Thanks old sport. Two hundred thousand. Look at that. Your two boys are good to go," laughed Bernie. The man detested Bernie. He was a low level guy that blew through the ranks because he was there when Tobias got his break.

"What about Connor?" he asked.

"Oh you're not seeing him again. You know what the boss wants to do to him. Krrch," Bernie drew his finger across his throat and laughed again. When he calmed down, he continued, "He's not even going to let Damien do it. That brat lost him millions, maybe even billions."

"You can pick up the non-troublemaking ones now. Just get in the damn plane," Bernie knocked back another drink and grinned. Just like Tobias, he was drunk on power and wealth. The man had a plan to get his sons back. It was going to be ugly but satisfying.

"Well what are we waiting for?" the man knocked back his own drink.

XXX

"Hello?" Aubrey knocked on the door. It was much warmer than DC in the south. He was wishing he packed some lighter clothes. Right now he was in a black suit and he was sweating to death.

"What'cha want?" grumbled a man with a stained wife beater and shorts on.

"Do any O'Malleys still occupy this residence?" Aubrey asked.

"Yeah," the man said.

"And you are?" Aubrey asked.

"George O'Malley," the man squinted and winced as clouds stopped blocking the sun.

"I'm Special Agent Aubrey with the FBI and I was wondering-" The door slammed in Aubrey's face.

"I don't talk to no cops!" hollered George.

"I need to talk to you about your brother! John!" Aubrey shouted. He heard loud stomping and the door swung open.

"Wha' 'bout 'im?" George barked.

"He's missing," Aubrey said, hoping some familial love would come out.

"Not exactly a national tragedy," George grumbled.

"Have you heard from him at all?" Aubrey asked.

"The last time I talked to him was right before he ran off and eloped. I only knew what happened to him once my nephew died. His wife died a few years before then my nephew got shot and killed for stumbling onto a human trafficking ring. He was all over the TV selling his story about what a grand old time he and his son had, how much he loved him, and how miserable he was without 'im," George scoffed.

"You don't feel that he truly cared for his son," Aubrey said.

"John didn't care for anyone but himself. The only reason he eloped with his wife was because he knocked up and her big brother was real religious and tough as nails. He also was the best damn shot 'round these parts. I used to go 'unting with 'im. He'd hit just about anything," George said.

"Has anyone else in your family talked to John?" Aubrey asked.

"I'm the only one left. My ma, bless her soul, passed on a couple years back and it's just me, the missus, and our two kids. The missus never met John. We met after he had left. She took the kids to the doctor's," George yawned, "Say, why is the FBI asking about John anyway?"

"It's because of his connection to his son," Aubrey said. It was the truth.

XXX

Finally, a ransom letter came in the mail. It asked for six hundred thousand dollars in unmarked bills. Louise had to bring the money in a plain brown satchel and leave it under a park bench in Central Park. New York City. Booth was worried. How in the hell did Theodore get three kids to the East Coast in that amount of time. He was actually in an unused office in the local police department making arrangements for the drop off with the FBI when she came in.

"Agent Booth," a rookie officer said when Booth answered the door.

"Yes?" Both said.

"This woman claims to have important intel on Theodore Hoffman. She wishes to speak to you," the officer said.

"Bring her in," Booth said.

"She's in one of the interrogation rooms." The officer led him to one of the rooms. Sitting at the table was none other than Julia Elmer.

"Ms. Elmer," Booth said as if he expected her to be there.

"Agent Booth please call me Julia. Mrs. Elmer is my mother's name," Julia laughed snobbishly. Without her baby around, she certainly had confidence and feelings of superiority.

"How's your son?" Booth asked her.

"Not my problem," Julia gave him a coy smile.

"What do you mean?" Booth said.

"Well I gave him to his father," she smiled. Booth said nothing. She explained, "John. I gave him to John."

"You do realize that lying to an officer about a felony case is obstruction of justice," Booth asked darkly.

"He was in the apartment with me when you came to question me. He threatened to kill me if I mentioned that he was here or Andy's father. He had a gun," she looked at him as if he would clear her of any crime and guilt.

"I'll need a bit more information on Theodore Hoffman before I can just let you go," Booth said.

"He was gambling a lot in Vegas. He told me he had about three hundred thousand dollars and needed it to get his sons back. He said that he wanted to be a father to Andrew and I could be the boys' stepmother. I really didn't want to be a parent so I let him take Andrew," she shrugged.

"Boss, we have a situation here," a rookie agent popped his head into the interrogation room.

"I'll be right back," Booth said and he left her in the interrogation room.


	7. Chapter 7

Hey, it's me, the most unreliable writer on here with posting. So, the story of Secrets and Suburbia was the second sequel I had written for Mole in the Murder. The first was Runts on the Run, a story that is completed (except for this one part at the end because I wasn't sure if I wrote it well and it was why I didn't post it originally). Since Secrets in Suburbia is such a tangled mess that only makes sense to me, I decided that I will delete it. I just wanted anyone who was following it to get the proper sequel. Here is a copy of the first chapter. If you'd rather me post an ending for Secrets in Suburbia, PM or review this story and say you want it finished but you won't get a good ending or one for a while. If you like Runts on the Run, PM or review and I'll delete this story soon and post the new story. Not going to lie, I prefer Runts on the Run as it makes much more sense and connects better to the first story.

Chapter One

Hayley took deep breaths and tried to calm herself. She was going to kill her father. She heard her door open and whirled around, ready to tear him a new one. It wasn't her dad. It was Matt. She let out a deep breath and blinked hard. "Well that was interesting," Matt stated.

"Really genius?" she mocked, feigning surprise.

"I thought Dad was about to kill you, the stuff you said," Matt trailed off.

"Well, don't worry," she blurted out quickly. She didn't like seeing him upset. She continued, "The disappointment of this family is heading off to college in August so Mommy and Daddy can play happy family."

"I don't think you're the disappointment of the family, I am," Matt said timidly.

"What you are Matt, is not wrong. I'm the moron studying a soft science," she offered a kind smile. Matt came out to her last year and has not told their parents yet. He didn't think their mother would care; it was their father he was worried about. He was always trying to earn approval from their dad, even though he already had it. Hayley knew their father wouldn't love him or think less of him. Matt, on the other hand, didn't believe it. He played hockey and baseball to earn their father's approval. He never liked baseball, he preferred hockey, but he wanted the praise he'd get for doing great in sports. He liked, no loved, and craved the affection Booth gave him. Matt did not want to lose it. Matt told her that he would come out to their parents before junior year. He just finished freshman year.

Hayley knew what it felt like to not feel approved of by their parents. In addition to majoring in psychology, she was caught drinking a single beer in the privacy of their basement with friends. It was a couple days after graduation and she and her friends wanted to celebrate. They thought her parents wouldn't show up for at least another hour since they had been called away to a crime scene but no, it was death by exposure, not murder, and identification could wait until her parents' returned to work the next day. Everyone was grilled by their parents, especially her. They thought she was turning into an alcoholic. It was just one beer. She rarely drank, she wasn't a fan of the taste, and it was just her luck to be caught one of the few times she was drinking. It didn't exactly help that she was playing poker with them too. Nothing big, just nickels and dimes, and of course her father freaked out. She was lectured on the evils of drinking and gambling and grounded for six weeks.

Those six weeks were up. Now she and her brother were going to go on a two week trip to their aunt's in San Francisco. Their aunt was Hayley's mother's sister, Hillary Mercier. Hillary was a bit of a free spirit. She was so open and had so many cool stories. And she was very, very tolerant of just about everything. The reason why she and her father had been fighting surrounded her. Booth had thought she was too much of a free spirit and too loose with the rules. He had gotten her rap sheet. She had been busted a few times for possessing less than an ounce of pot, a couple of shoplifting charges, and vandalism. Hillary had sworn she cleaned up but she had been fined for disrupting the peace a few weeks ago.

Hayley was infuriated. She was too noisy in public, so what? It wasn't like she had been charged with a felony. Misdemeanors and summary offences, nothing too serious. But no, her father had tried to convince her to back out of visiting her aunt. She hadn't seen her aunt in two years after she had tried to gain custody of her and Matt. When she wasn't given full custody or even joint custody, she disappeared. Booth had tried to say that she was part of a cult but she refused to believe it. She looked up the group her aunt had stayed with for a few years. It was a hippie commune. Nothing illegal.

Both of her parents were wary of this trip but they allowed it. They had begged for the past two years to visit her and since she had a steady job and home with room for the two of them, they allowed it under a few conditions: calls home every day, no going off on their own, and no mingling with bad influences. If they caught wind of anything suspicious, Matt and Hayley would be put on the first plane back to DC. Hayley wanted to scoff at the idea of going home early. Hillary reminded her a lot of her mother and she was not giving up the connection. Besides, she was a mature, young woman and Matt was just as responsible as her. They knew better and would have a great time. They'd show them that Hillary was responsible enough to care for them and maybe let her and Matt contact her more. That would be perfect.

XXX

Booth's stomach tightened as he watched his two children disappear into the crowds of the airport. He really did not want them to go but Bones and Sweets had convinced them that this was beneficial for them. He didn't trust Hillary. She was too out there for him. He hoped that she'd be more responsible now that she had children in her care.

He felt that there was something off about his children. Grounding Hayley was more for the gambling than the beer. He'd be a hypocrite if he said he never drank in high school. But drinking scared him, as did gambling. Addiction ran in his-their family. Bones kept telling him he needed to let go so she could make her own choices but he didn't want to. He'd miss the first fourteen years of her life, he didn't not want to be involved for the last four years of her childhood. Majoring psychology was a shock to him and Bones but he accepted it. He knew she always wanted to help people and this was a way for her to do so.

He felt like Matt was hiding something from him. Against his better judgement and conscience, he had searched Matt's room a few times for drugs or stolen property. Thankfully, he found neither. Matt is a good kid. He wondered if he was being bullied. He tried to talk to him about it a few times but Matt insisted that everything was fine. He didn't believe it for a second. Booth wanted to go online to see if it was cyberbullying but he didn't have social media accounts, except for Facebook and Matt didn't have one. He had Instagram and Twitter. Bones was on Twitter to publicize her books and she said she didn't see any taunts or cruel remarks pointed towards their son.

"Booth," his phone disturbed his reverie. A body was found. He and Bones looked at each other. Work never stopped. At least it waited until the kids were out of the house.

XXX

Matt shifted from side to side. Going out of town for a day was one thing, but after three days he was nervous. They were supposed to be in San Francisco with Hillary but no, she just had to drive them both to Las Vegas so she could visit friends and go to a few casinos. She had the keys to the car, and Hayley was having fun flirting with Hillary's friends' sons and didn't want to leave. He was miserable. Too young to drink, gamble, or even drive. He couldn't by a bus ticket back to San Francisco because he couldn't pass for eighteen, even in the dark. Someone would catch him and call his parents and then he and Hayley could never see Hillary again and Hayley would be so pissed with him.

So far they had been fooling their parents, as far as they knew, they had been to the beach for the past three days. Not stuck in Sin City. When Matt was snooping around the house, he found a Gamblers' Anonymous chip just as his mother caught him. She explained that Booth used to gamble and not to mention since he wanted to explain to them when he was ready. He'd have a heart attack if he knew where they were.

"Here we are," Jimmy, one of the sons of Hillary's friends, said.

"In here?" he asked nervously. Jimmy nodded. He came out to Hillary, he knew she was super tolerant and wouldn't mind but she could not keep a secret for her life. Within minutes, she told all of her friends who told their kids. Whenever Hayley was not within earshot, he'd get mocked by the other kids. He didn't dare tell Hayley, he had had worse, and he didn't want her meddling. It'd make it worse.

Jimmy was nice to him though. He'd be the one to tell the others to knock it off after a few minutes. Matt would prefer he did that immediately since he was one of the leaders of the group and they'd listen to him, but he'd take what he could get. Jimmy told him that he'd take him to a gay bar that didn't ID, so he wouldn't feel like the odd one out and feel acceptance. Matt opened the door and fell to the ground.

"He's a-" Jimmy screamed. Matt felt his face grow hot and looked up. He was in a bar full of guys who looked fresh out of jail or a crime scene. They were all sizing him up and a few were making his way towards him. He scrambled off the floor and backed up against the wall.

"We don't appreciate your kind here," snorted one ugly looking bastard with a Mohawk.

"I'm not. My friend's just an asshole," he lied through his teeth. He was seething. He was going to kill Jimmy, if he got out of here alive.

"Get out," growled another one.

"Gladly," he bolted from the bar. Jimmy drove past him and flipped him off. He was alone, in a scary neighborhood, at sunset. Great, just great. He'd just call Hayley to pick him up; he'd say he went exploring the city and got lost. He shoved his hand into his right pocket and realized he must have dropped his phone in Jimmy's car or in the bar full of homophobes. Lovely. He dug around in his pockets and came up empty. No money, no phone, no map. He was screwed. Matt shook his head. He'd find a bus map, or a subway map, or maybe even a tourist map. He'd find his way home. Then he'd kill Jimmy. He set off towards the way he and Jimmy came.

As he was walking down the street, he noticed three kids around his and Hayley's ages beating on a much smaller boy. He shouted and ran up to the trio. The tallest one responded by striking him, hard. Matt was sent reeling. He ran his tongue along his teeth. Nothing broken. He got into stance like his dad had shown him a million times and pounced. He managed to sweep the smallest one's, who was a little taller than him, legs out from under him and he hit the pavement hard. Noticing him, the smaller boy jumped on the middle one's back and pulled back with all of his might so his arms would choke him.

The tallest one was the most experienced fighter and the most ruthless. Matt had to dodge kicks to his groin several times. Then the tallest one pulled out a knife. "You're out of your depth ginger," he mocked. He swiped at Matt several times until he had him backed up against the wall. He was beaming with vicious joy and a malevolent glint in his eyes.

"I'll slit your throat first Ginger Kid. Then the little Nazi Bastard. When I'm through with the two of you, not even your own mothers will recognize you," the tallest one gloated. In a blink of an eye, the tallest one went from gloating to on the ground clutching his face in pain. A bloody rock rolled into the light of the streetlamp.

"Run!" howled the younger boy. He took Matt's hand and led him through the streets. They ran for what felt like hours. The younger boy pulled him into an alley then behind a dumpster. Matt threw up in the patch of dirt. He had never ran that fast, that long in his life. When he finally caught his breath he asked, "Did I almost get stabbed for rescuing an Anti-Semite?"

"No idiot. Blond hair, blue eyes, you get the picture," the younger boy gestured to himself and snorted.

"I need to get home," Matt whined, feeling like the younger kid here.

"We need to clean up first. And rest," the younger boy panted, "I'm exhausted."

"Really? I feel like the Energizer Bunny," he said and rested on his haunches.

"No need for sarcasm. My buddy's house. We can rest up there. He won't mind. He had to leave town with family to see a sick aunt. His dad's only sister, you know," the younger boy shrugged. He looked around and peered down the street. "Coast is clear. For now," he said ominously.

"What's your name?" Matt asked as they skulked down streets.

"Chip. Real name's Charles but that's boring. You?" Chip said.

"Matt," he replied. Chip led him to an apartment complex and opened the door to a first floor apartment. "Your friend's?" Matt asked. He didn't trust the kid. Chip nodded. The inside of the house looked messy, as if someone left in a hurry. There were a ton of girly toys lying around. Matt looked at the ground, trying hard not to step on things. When he looked up, Chip was gone. The brat had tricked him. He spun around to leave but a shape in the dark caught his eyes. Then the smell hit him. Dead body.

He didn't want to but his body unconsciously made him go closer. He wished he had a light. It was so dark. The floor was light so he saw the blood pool on the ground and wanted to throw up again. Where the hell was Chip? He couldn't stop looking. "Chip?" he hissed, "Chip." A light flicked on.

"Hello Connor."


End file.
